


Agent Blake

by That_Ginger_004



Series: Bellarke One-Shots [12]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Clarke is awesome, F/M, Long ish I guess, cause why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2924156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Ginger_004/pseuds/That_Ginger_004
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bellamy Blake is a secret agent, and Clarke Griffin is the most infuriating person he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agent Blake

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally finished this. A secret agent AU because why not. Not beta'd, so forgive me with any mistakes. Also I was thinking of writing some parts of this in Clarke's pov, so let me know if I should or nah. Please comment any thoughts and/or improvements, and as always, thanks for reading :3

Bellamy Blake was the best there was. He could be in and out of a place before the enemy was even aware that he was there. He could hit a target accurately from over two hundred feet away. When he was interrogating someone, he got what he wanted, when he wanted it, which was why he was so annoyed with the girl sitting opposite him who was absolutely refusing to tell him anything.

 

She was an agent herself, from his agency’s rival group, which was probably half the problem - although he had interrogated their agents successfully before. From what he could tell, she was stubborn, and headstrong, and determined to frustrate him. She also thought that she was good at what she did, which make him laugh, because if she was good she wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place. She was arrogant, and cocky, and she was making his head spin, dammit, by talking in circles. And yes. She was attractive, looking more like a princess than an agent, with her curly blonde hair and wide blue eyes.

 

But he goes through the motions anyway, ignoring her sarcastic remarks, and the fact that she probably knows what he’s doing, until he can’t stand it anymore, and leaves the room. He makes it as far as command before he is spotted.

 

“Yo Blake, aren’t you supposed to be interrogating that chick?” It’s Murphy.

 

“She isn’t co-operating, so I was gonna give it a rest for a while.” Bellamy answers him.

 

“So in other words, you’re giving up,” Murphy actually has the nerve to smirk, and Bellamy curses the day that he decided to join his agency. “Thought I’d never see the day,”

 

“No, I’m not giving up,” he rolls his eyes.

 

“Doesn’t look like it from here,” Murphy shoots back.

 

“You know what? I was actually just about to head back now,” Bellamy snaps, then turns and stalks back to the interrogation room.

 

Stupid Murphy, and his stupid face. Bellamy couldn’t even look at it without wanting to break his nose (again). He slams the door behind him when he enters the room, hoping to make the girl feel intimidated.

 

“Woah, someone’s tetchy. What’s the matter, did your boyfriend break up with you?”

 

Apparently not. He can practically hear the smirk in her voice, and he longs to put her in her place. He wonders for a moment how good she is at fighting, then dismisses the thought. She wasn’t a threat. And besides, they hadn’t even cuffed her to the chair.

 

He turns around to see that she had taken off her jacket while he was gone. He stares for a moment at the tantalizing amount of skin shown, and how her top seems to cling to her body like a second skin.

 

“Eyes up here, dork,” she says.

 

He glances at her eyes, and sighs. He hates interrogations.

 

“What’s your name?” he asks, not expecting to get a response.

 

“Clarke,” she surprises him. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

 

“Your full name?” he prompts.

 

“Dude, I’m not stupid,” she snorts. Never mind. This is worse.

 

“Alright, Clarke,” he says, raising an eyebrow dubiously. “What were you doing at the gala?”

 

“Super secret spy stuff,” she smirks.

 

“Why am I not surprised,” he mutters.

 

“Hey would you happen to have the time?” she asks, smiling innocently and batting her eyes.

 

“Uhh… Yeah,” he glances at his watch. “It’s eleven thirty four. Why?”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to miss my call in time,”

 

He furrows his eyebrows - he can’t tell if she’s extremely arrogant, or just incredibly stupid. He turns around to hide his sigh, banging his head against the wall. It’s probably because of this that he misses the sound of her getting up and crossing the room - in fact, he only realises that something is wrong when she whacks him over the back of his head hard enough for him to crumple to the ground.

 

His head is spinning; throbbing with pain and filling him with nausea. When his vision finally clears, he sees Clarke (if that really is her name) sitting on top him, holding him down and pressing her elbow into his throat. He isn’t too worried - the room is being monitored, and someone will be here soon. Besides, she isn’t in any kind of position to make a bargain.

 

“Let me propose a deal,” she whispers, leaning down so her face is a few inches from his. His eyes drift to her cleavage for a second, and he becomes all too aware of how she’s sitting on his hips, her groin pressed to his, her breasts brushing up against his chest when he breathes. He swallows thickly. Clearly, he’s underestimated her.

 

“I don’t exactly think you’re in the best position to propose a--” he starts.

 

“Oh yeah?” she smirks, and it pools straight to his stomach. “Your men will be here in, what, two minutes? That’s enough time for me to crush your windpipe,”

 

“What did you have in mind?” he tells himself that he’s just letting her think that he’s playing along.

 

“Let me fight you. If you win, then I’ll tell you everything you want to know,”

 

He frowns. Granted, he might not know her style that well, but that doesn’t seem like the best tactic.

 

“But if I win, then you have to promise that you will let me go, and not track me or anything,”

 

Right. Yeah, that would be the catch. She must be fairly confident in her fighting abilities, something he doubted - but then she did manage to sneak up on him and completely take him out without him even noticing that she got up. He thinks it through. She said that she’d tell him everything that he wants to know, and that’s not something that he should pass up. Saying that, he didn’t know how good she was at fighting - but then, he was the best that there was. He could beat her. Easy.

 

“Do we have a deal?” she raises an eyebrow, and pushes her elbow deeper into his throat, constricting his windpipe from almost all air flowing in and out. He panics for a second - he’s already light-headed, and it wouldn’t take long to knock him out from lack of air. It is this thought, more than anything, that pushes him to wheeze out his agreement.

 

*****

 

He’s standing opposite her on a training mat in the gym. She doesn’t look particularly worried about all the guns being pointed at her, or the untrusting looks being sent her way. His boss didn’t like what he agreed too, but he refused to back out. Unlimited information was really too much for them to pass up. The team of agents were surprised when they flung open the door to find her sitting peacefully in her chair, and him kneeling over and coughing; gasping for air on the ground. He’d had to explain to them what happened (and God, Murphy looked like Christmas had come early), and the deal that they made. Which, fast forward two hours for his head to stop spinning, brought them here.

 

“The rules are simple,” Roma says, glancing between them both. “First to pin their opponent to the ground for three seconds or more wins. Only one round will take place. Questions?”

 

“Yeah, how good is your medical team? Cause you might want to warn them to clear up a bed,” Clarke grins, cracking her neck. Bellamy rolls his eyes.

 

Roma ignores her. “Three… Two… One… Start!”

 

Clarke is gone before Bellamy even has time to move. He steps forwards, confused, then gasps in pain when a pair of feet slam into his back, sending him sprawling forwards. His hands meet cold concrete instead of the soft mat, and he stands up, whirling around and sending a fist flying as he does so. He feels the familiar thud of his fist hitting flesh, and sees Clarke’s eyes widen in shock and pain.

 

She steps forwards quickly and winds her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, then before he can shove her away, she brings her knee up, forcefully and deliberately to meet his groin. He doubles over in pain, pushing her away weakly, and dry retching. He can see her walking leisurely towards him, taking her time, knowing that he’s in far more pain than she is. He loathes her for going far below the belt with her fighting - but at the same time, he can’t help but admire her for using his weaknesses against him.

 

Still, far be it from him to go down without a proper fight, so he lunges forward through his pain, tackling her to the ground. They roll for a few seconds, both throwing solid punches, neither one able to get the upperhand, but eventually his strenght wins out. He pins her to the ground, his entire body pressing down on hers. Her fingers scramble around his back, and he knows she looking for pressure points, but the fight is almost won. It’s almost his. Just two more seconds. But then she remembers something - he can see it in her eyes (which he most definitely was not staring into), and her hands come up to the back of his head, find the knot where she hit him before, and press down. Hard.

 

He roars in pain, his grip loosening, and with one second before he wins, she manages to flip them over, pulling his head up then letting it go, making it thump down hard on the concrete. He is dazed, his vision going blurry and fading out around the edges. He distantly hears Roma counting down from three, and he struggles weakly before giving up. He knows it’s useless to try and fight with the concussion he’s sure he has.

 

Roma calls time, and Clarke gets off him, and he can barely hear her half assed comment about the fight. He sees through barely open eyes the guards that come forwards, and force her to the ground. He can hear her angry yelling, but she could be whispering for all he knows. He sees one guard crash to the ground, then another, and someone coming up behind her, gun outstretched. He makes a barely legible warning - why, he isn’t sure - but it’s too late. The gun comes up, crashes down on her head, and the last thing he sees before he passes out is her crumpling like a puppet without it’s strings.

 

*****

 

Bellamy wakes up in medical four hours later. His head is killing him, and the doctors tell him that he has a mild concussion, but he needs to know about Clarke. So he gets up anyway, brushing off their worries and hiding the fact that his vision gets absurdly blurry when he stands. He slowly walks to command, piecing together the facts that he knows about her.

 

One; her name is Clarke. Two; she hit him on the head, not once, but twice, in the past five hours. Three; she is amazing at fighting (no wonder she proposed the deal…) and isn’t afraid to cause mass amounts of pain to her opponent. Four; she beat him in the fight (Bellamy Blake, the best there was… Yeah, right). Five; she’s incredibly stubborn. Six; She was presumably still here, and probably furious about it. And seven; she is, without a doubt, the most attractive woman he knows. He can’t help but wish he knows more about her.

 

“Agent Blake. Good to see you. Hows the head?” Abby, one of his two bosses, asks.

 

“It’s fine, thanks. How’s Clarke?” he replies, shooting a glare to Murphy (he’s standing smugly in the corner, smirking his head off, the little shit).

 

“Clarke?” Abby asks, her face paling a little.

 

“Yeah…” he says slowly. “The girl,”

 

“Right. Yes. She’s still out,” Abby looks visibly shaken, and he wonders why for a second.

 

Bellamy frowns. How hard had she been hit? He’d been out for four hours, but he’d already been hit on the head before.

 

“Shouldn’t we take her to medical to get checked on?” he asks hesitantly.

 

“Give it another few hours. If she isn’t up soon though, we’ll make sure she’s alright,”

 

The hours pass slowly, as if the clock is being held back by some unknown force. Bellamy wishes that she’ll wake up, and he hopes that she’s alright. He feels drawn to her for some unexplainable reason, which makes no sense at all given the amount of times she’s taken him out in their short time knowing each other. Still, he can’t help but worry about her, and as more and more time passes, the more antsy he gets.

 

“Alright, Agent Blake. Off you go. Take her to medical, as you’re clearly so desperate to do,” Abby finally sighs.

 

“I… What?” he asks, looking over at her confused.

 

“You’ve been staring at that screen since you walked in here. Clearly you’re worried, so go do something about it,” Abby smiles kindly at him, and gestures to the monitor showing the interrogation room.

 

Clarke is sitting in the chair, her head hanging and her body limp. Fear flickers over him once again at the sight of her limp body, so he nods and heads out to the holding room. Seeing her sitting unconscious in the chair is so much more terrifying in person. He crosses the room, and picks up her arm, feeling around for a pulse. He doesn’t find one, so he scoops her small frame up into his arms and hurries to leave the room.

 

The corridor leading to medical is long and empty. Bellamy thinks that he feels Clarke stir in his arms, so he stops for a second and stares down at her. She has a tiny crease on her forehead, and even in her sleep there’s a small smirk on her face. She looks peaceful; almost angelic. Of course, that’s the moment that it all goes wrong. She rolls out of his arms, apparently awake, and hits the ground in a crouch.

 

“What the--” he starts, reaching down for the gun he keeps strapped to his hip - except it’s not there.

 

Predictably, Clarke holds it up, a full blown smirk lighting up her features. “Looking for this?”

 

“How did--” he frowns.

 

“Oh, Agent Blake, you should know; I’m full of surprises,” she cuts him off.

 

Then she moves, and she’s lightning fast, and then he feels something (presumably the butt of his gun) smack against the back of his head, and for the third time in twenty four hours, his vision fades out, and he slumps against something - except this time it’s soft and warm, and he feels strangely safe. Well, about as safe as someone who has a gun pressed to their temple and an arm locked around their neck can feel.

 

“We really have to stop doing this,” he grunts, struggling feebly.

 

She presses the gun more firmly into his head, making him still immediately. He hears shouting, and a second later a dozen agents round the corner, guns pointing wildly.

 

“Hand over Agent Blake, and we’ll let you live,” someone from the midst says, and his heart lurches when he recognises Octavia’s voice. His little sister - when did she get so grown up?

 

“If you shoot me, then he’ll be dead before the bullet even reaches me,” Clarke says, her voice deadly calm; void of any emotion.

 

“You wouldn’t kill him. Killing takes a toll on you - something you wouldn’t know, I’m sure,” Octavia replies, stepping forwards. Octavia wouldn’t know either, but Clarke doesn’t know that.

 

“Oh, you’d be surprised. People always make killing someone sound so terrible, but it really isn’t that bad. Now, tell me where the exit is, or I will kill him,”

 

Bellamy isn’t scared of death. But he is scared of the radiating truth emitting from Clarke. It’s clear that she has killed before, possibly for self defense, but she has done it. Octavia looks around the rest of the team, and presses her lips together. Bellamy knows that she won’t let him die, and he can see her struggling with herself.

 

“You know, I’ve heard brain matter is extremely hard to clean… Do you want to find out?”

 

Octavia pales, and shoots a pleading look over to the person standing to her left, who nods slowly.

 

“Down the corridor, take the first left, then the second right. You can’t miss it… Just, let my brother go, please,” she says.

 

Clarke ignores her, and starts to walk, dragging Bellamy along with her, his own gun still pressed to his temple. She flings open the door, and steps outside, heading towards a car parked fifty meters from the entrance. She pauses when she reaches it, as if she knows something is off, but then there’s a bang of gunshot, and the world spins into chaos. Bellamy is shoved to the ground, and he hears guns firing; people screaming, and then he’s being shoved into a car and the door is slamming and then they’re going. He glances over to see Clarke sitting in the drivers seat, a determined expression on her face.

 

“What-” he swallows the nerves building up in his throat. “Why am I here?”

 

“Trust me, I don’t particularly want you here either,” she hisses.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You sister shot me. You should be glad you’re still breathing,”

 

Bellamy frowns and gives Clarke a once over. Sure enough, she’s bleeding slightly from her left shoulder, and Bellamy feels a fleeting pang of worry before he remembers that she kidnapped him. He doesn’t say anything else, and silence falls between them. It’s slightly tense, so he flicks on the radio to break it.

 

Clarke drives south west like a madwoman for several hours, and they switch cars twice before they finally pull over for the night. She looks pale, and he can’t tell if it’s because she’s tired, or if it’s because of lack of blood. Her shoulder is still oozing a trail of blood, and he’s gotten past his ‘oh my god she kidnapped me, what’ stage for the most part, and worry is starting to seep in. She pulls a black jacket hidden under the seat on when they stop, which hides the wound effectively.

 

“Get out,” she says flatly, speaking for the first time in hours.

 

He nods, getting out of the car and waiting for further instructions. She hops out and he walks over to her, gazing down at her face.

 

“What now, Princess?” he asks teasingly.

 

She smiles at him - a proper smile, the first he’s seen, and it makes her look amazing. Forget princess, this creature standing before him was an angel, surely.

 

“We’re going to book a room for the night,” she says, then takes his hand and pulls him towards the office.

 

A buzzer and an old man behind the counter greet them when they walk into the dingy room.

 

“Welcome to Oak motel. How may I help you?” the man drones.

 

Clarke looks up at Bellamy for a second, a mischievous grin taking over her features.

 

“Hi. My fiance and I would like to book a room for a night,” she says, and he almost can’t recognise her voice.

 

Then her words sink in, and he hides the look of shock that would otherwise overcome her face. Her grin widens at his discomfort, and she sidles closer to him, wrapping her good arm around his waist. The old man looks up and smiles nicely.

 

“Right,” he says, then looks at Bellamy and says, “She’s a keeper, son. Look after her good,”

 

Bellamy almost chokes, but instead he slings his arm over her shoulder and smiles at her.

 

“I plan on it,” he says, and tries not to notice how well she fits against him.

 

Clarke pulls a wad of cash out of her jacket pocket, and hands it over to the man.

 

“Keep the change,” she smiles.

 

They leave the office after getting their key to a laugh and a ‘have a nice stay!’ from the man. The second that they get into the room, Clarke lets off a peal of laughter and drops his hand.

 

“Fiance?” he asks incredulously, staring at her.

 

“Yah. Good cover, right?” she laughs again, and it’s the most amazing sound that he’s heard in a long time.

 

“Right,” he nods.

 

“So your name. What is it? I mean, I can’t keep calling you ‘Agent Blake’,” she smirks.

 

“Ha ha, very funny. It’s Bellamy,” he says sarcastically, and without thinking he shoves her arm playfully.

 

She gives a slight whimper, recoiling and trying in vain to hide the expression of pain that she’s wearing.

 

“Shit, sorry,” he says, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

 

“S’alright,” she mutters, then pulls away and walks to the bathroom.

 

He frowns, and sighs. For a moment, he forgot that he was her prisoner. He forgot that they were both deadly spies, and not to mention supposed enemies. Still, he can’t leave her in pain, so he grabs the keys and goes to get the first aid kit he’s sure the car has. When he returns, he goes to the bathroom, and knocks on the door.

 

“Clarke?” he asks.

 

“Yes?” comes the reply, and he can hear pain in her voice.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

He’s answered by silence, so he opens the door anyway and finds her sitting down, her shirt peeled away to reveal a nasty looking wound, sitting below her collarbone. It’s red and inflamed, and blood is streaming out of it.

 

“The bullet is still in it,” Clarke says matter of factly.

 

“Oh,” he states.

 

“Can you get it out?” she asks, looking towards the first aid kit.

 

“Um. I can try… I’ve never done it before,” he admits.

 

“Well it’s a good thing I have then. I can talk you through it,” she smiles bitterly.

 

So he nods, and kneels in front of her, and begins looking around the wound for the bullet. She gives him instructions the whole way through, and she never stops looking at his face. It sort of unnerves him, the way she’s staring. She doesn’t flinch once, even though she must be in a tremendous amount of pain, and he admires her resolve. When he’s done, he wraps it carefully, and gives her some painkillers, which she swallows dry. Then they go back to the other room, and collapse on the bed.

 

“You said that you’d pulled a bullet out of someone before,” he says after a lengthy period of silence. “Who was it? If you don’t mind me asking,”

 

“No, it’s fine. And it was myself, actually,” she responds.

 

“Wait, what?” he asks, sitting up and staring at her.

 

She smiles slightly and pulls up the bottom of her shirt to reveal a scar on her lower abdomen.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” she requests.

 

“Yeah. Sure, Princess,” he smiles at her.

 

“Why… Why are you being so nice to me?” she hesitantly asks.

 

“Cause life is short, Princess, and you are hot,” he quotes Doctor Who.

 

She smiles a little. “No, Bell, I’m being serious. I kidnapped you, held a gun to your head. Why are you helping me?”

 

“I… Jeez, Princess. I hate that agency. It sucks there. But the thing is, I love doing the work, you know? Truth is, I’ve been thinking about quitting for ages now, and then you came along and it was like a breath of fresh air. Yes you were rude, and you knocked me out twice, but you challenged me, and nobody has been able to do that for the longest time,” he says honestly. “Then we made that deal, and despite you winning, they still didn’t let you go, and I guess I just felt sorta obligated to do something. And besides, what’s the worst Abby is going to do? Fire me? I was gonna quit anyway,”

 

She sits up with some effort. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

 

“It’s okay,” he responds, mimicking her tone. Then, “Alright, my turn.  Are you the best in your agency? Because I am, and as much as it pains me to admit this, you’re equally as good as me.”

 

“Uh. Yes and no,” she says, smiling a little.

 

“Yes and no?” he asks, poking her face.

 

“I’m the best all rounder, I guess. But my friend Raven is better at accuracy, and Miller’s better at hand to hand,” she elaborates.

 

“Wow. Okay. How the hell do you guys train?” he asks, slightly in awe.

 

When he said that he was the best in his agency, he really wished that it wasn’t that much of a competition. Sadly, he was the best by far though, and from the sound of what Clarke said their agents were at a much higher level.

 

“Ah… We get exposed to fear and pain among other things,” she says vaguely.

 

“Right, yeah sorry, stupid question,”

 

“It’s alright,” she smiles at him again, and he never wants her to stop. “Okay. That girl, she was your sister? Is she older or younger?”

 

“Younger. Her name’s Octavia, and if you hurt her, I swear to God I’ll--” he starts, his protective big brother mode taking over.

 

“Chill. Despite what you may think, I’m not that ruthless. As long as you don’t piss me off too badly, we should be fine,”

 

“Right,” he trails off slightly embarrassed. “Um… You said earlier that you’ve killed someone before. Was that for a case, or..?”

 

Clarke frowns slightly. “It was on a case, the first time. My partner, he got caught and doused in acid, he was in agony. He would have died anyway, so it was a mercy thing. The second time was the same case. I was so mad about what they did, so I stormed the building.” she laughs bitterly. “There was three people in there, I knocked two of them out before they even knew I was there. The third man was staring at me, straight in the eyes. He begged for his life; said he had a wife and two kids. I shot him straight between the eyes.”

 

He doesn’t quite know what to say to that. How do you respond to someone who sounds like they’re reliving their worst nightmare?

 

“I think about it all the time,” she whispers. “He had a family. Thanks to me, there’s now two more kids in the world without a dad,”

 

“Oh, Clarke. I’m sorry,” he says empathetically.

 

“You know I said that taking a life isn’t that bad?”

 

“Yeah,” he nods.

 

“It’s true. Pulling the trigger is easy. It’s the aftermath that’s the hard part. Knowing that you held someone’s life in your hands, that you cut the string of fate, that you’re responsible for the trauma of someone having to deal with losing their son, their dad, their brother. It’s the worst feeling in the world,” she looks so torn up about it, that he hugs her on impulse.

 

She freezes up, but relaxes almost immediately, leaning into him and pressing her face into his neck and taking a deep, shuddering breath. He whispers soothingly, and rubs her back. He feels something strangely similar to butterflies in his stomach, and nerves well up in his throat, so he presses his face to her hair. She smells like fresh apples and coconut, and he feels slightly safer than usual.

 

He isn’t sure how long it is until they break apart. It could be seconds, or hours. Hell, it could be days for as much as he cares. They go to bed when they break apart, sharing the double and he tries as hard as possible to stick to his side. But apparently his dreams don’t obey the same rules as they do in waking hours, and when he wakes up she’s curled into his side with his arm around her and her head resting on his chest. They’re a tangle of limbs and sweat and it’s all he’s ever wanted. Fuck, she’s all he’s ever wanted.

 

He’s known her for forty eight hours, max, and she’s already become one of the people he cares about most in this world. He know’s that it’s crazy and stupid, but she just has that effect on him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had that effect on everyone, she’s that likeable. When she wakes up, he’s absently rubbing circles on her back with his thumb. He stops when he realises that she’s awake, and they break apart, not saying anything about how they ended up. They hit the road shortly after nine in the morning, switch cars at a random carpark, and again, Clarke drives south west.

 

“Hey,” Bellamy says, glancing over at her after a while of silence. It isn’t tense this time, rather relaxed and comfortable. “Why was it so important for you to get out? You know we would have let you out eventually,”

 

“I didn’t want my dad to worry,” she say eventually.

 

“Your dad?” he asks curiously.

 

“Yeah. He’s-” she sighs. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

 

“Sure, Princess,” he smiles.

 

“My dad is Jake Griffin,” she states.

 

“Uhh,” is his intelligent reply.

 

Jake Griffin has been the name drilled into his mind from the moment he joined the agency. He’s the leader of the rival group, and Abby’s worst enemy.

 

“Look, you know about why our two agencies hate each other so much, right?” she asks.

 

“Yeah, Abby and Jake were friends, they had a massive fight and ended up hating each other, so they split their company in half and took half of the profit each,” he summarises.

 

Everyone from the agencies knows it. It’s the sort of thing that movies are made of and books are written about, but it’s the truth.

 

“I’m going to tell you something that pretty much no one knows, okay?”

 

He nods, and looks at her expectantly. She takes a deep breath.

 

“Twenty four years ago, Abby and Jake used to be married. They had a child together, and they ran an agency and they were happy. Then Jake had an idea about how to train more effective, more deadly agents. Abby disagreed with it. See, it was kinda brutal, and they’d hoped that their child would follow in their footsteps, and Abby didn’t want her to go through all of the pain involved in the new training idea. That’s what their fight was about. They got divorced, split their agency in half, and Jake moved to a new location and started his new training schedule. He got custody of their child as well. There’s been a rivalry ever since,”

 

Bellamy stares. “That’s you,” he says bluntly. “That baby,”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs.

 

“So Abby is your mother? No wonder she looked so worried when she learnt your name,” he remarks casually.

 

“What? She did?” Clarke jumps at the mention.

 

“Yeah,” he says slowly, realising the implication behind his words. Abby still cares about her. She still cares about the daughter that she’s never known.

 

Clarke smiles softly, and they continue driving to the unknown location, casual conversation filling the silence. Bellamy learns more and more about Clarke - how she wishes that she had a sibling, and how she’s always wanted to know her mother, but more than that as well. He finds out that there’s always so much pressure on her to perform her missions perfectly, which is why she was so keen to get out before they realised that she had been compromised. She says that some of the other agents hated her, and said that the reason why she got the missions she did was because of nepotism, as her father was the leader of the agency - in fact, some people had even said that that was the reason why she got in in the first place.

 

“But I got shot just like all the rest of them, I went through basic training just like they did. Just because my father happens to be our boss--” she says vehemently on the subject.

 

“Wait, did you just say you got shot just like the rest of them?” Bellamy cuts her off, staring at her incredulously.

 

“Shit. You didn’t hear that,” she says, glancing at him for a split second, but it’s too late, his mind is already racing.

 

“You said that you got exposed to fear and pain in basic training. Do they shoot you for it?” he asks, his eyes fixed on her face.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, she nods, pursing her lips as she does so.

 

“And- wait, you said that you’d pulled a bullet out of yourself before. Was that--” it feels like pieces of a puzzle are clicking together in his mind, showing part of the larger picture he’s never seen before.

 

“Yes!” she snaps, then sighs. “They teach us how to deal with pain by shooting us and getting us to take out the bullet then stitch ourselves up. Like I said, it’s brutal,”

 

“Sorry for asking,” he mutters sheepishly. Clearly this is a sensitive topic for her - probably because it’s the reason why she’s never known her mother.

 

“It’s alright. It is effective, and it’s highly monitored so that if anything looks like it’s going wrong then they’ll get the person to medical immediately. They also shoot in a specific place where there isn’t any vital organs or anything. It’s as safe as getting shot can possibly be,” she explains.

 

He snorts at that ridiculous statement, shaking his head a little. “I can see why Abby didn’t approve,”

 

“Oh, you don’t know half of it,” Clarke laughs a little.

 

“Oh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“That’s the first thing they do on the first day of basic training. Usually it takes a few hours. After that, they launch straight into the fear part, not giving you any time to rest,”

 

“The fear part?” he repeats apprehensively.

 

“Yeah. They have this serum that composes a situation of your top fears. The idea is you have to get your heart rate back to normal before it moves on to the next one,” she’s smiling at his discomfort.

 

“Sounds fun,”

 

“Oh, yeah,” she laughs.

 

So he learns about how they train, and teach their agents that loyalty is the strongest thing that they will need. They push the trainee’s too their limits, that’s why there’s so few of them. Clarke tells him that they take maybe ten or fifteen new recruits a year, but only one or two of them actually stick it through. The first day is the hardest; you start the day by getting shot, then exposed to your fears, then you have an army training course to complete in a certain time limit, then it’s straight to the shooting range where you learn to shoot a gun, throw knifes, shoot a bow, and then finally you do hand to hand combat. To top off the day, the fake a kidnapping in the middle of the night, and test your loyalty to the company that you only just started. Anyone who betrays them is cut, which Bellamy thinks is a little harsh - but Clarke insists that it encourages loyalty above all else.

 

There’s two parts to basic training - in base and out of base. The typical in base day looks like that, minus the getting shot and the kidnapping part (that’s only once). The second part, they take the recruits that are left, and drop them somewhere in the world, and give them instructions on how to get back to base. After that, you’re a fully qualified agent. It’s tough, and only the best get through, and it makes Bellamy’s basic training look like child's play in comparison.

 

“So where did you get dropped?” he asks her when she’s finished explaining.

 

“Some place called Stewart Island, in the middle of winter. It’s at the bottom of New Zealand,” she grimaces. “It looked pretty, but the cold was unbearable,”

 

He’s somewhat in awe of her. She’s tough as nails, and at twenty four years old she’s seen and done things that most people would never see or do in two lifetimes. When they finally pull over for the night, it’s dark, the sky twinkling with stars.

 

“Where are we going?” he asks when they get into their motel room.

 

“Mexico,” she says, her eyes bright and a smile lighting up her face. “We’ll be there in… Maybe two days,”

 

“And where is there, exactly?” he’s smiling. He’s been to many places before, but Mexico was not one of them.

 

“Why, Agent Blake, I’ve been to your base,” she grins. “So don’t you think it’s only fair you get to come to mine?”

 

*****

 

Sure enough, two days later they reach their destination - Dock N, in the harbour of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. They’d decided that Bellamy wouldn’t be a hostage (now that was an awkward conversation…), but instead an agent wanting to join their agency. And it was true. Clarke had told him many things about the way her agency was run, and it sounded like a much nicer place to work at. And so, given that he hated his own agency, but loved the work, they decided together that Clarke would introduce him to her father, explain the situation, and ask if he could join their agency instead. She was positive that he’d let him stay, and he trusted her (four days of no company other than her would do that to anyone), but he knew the risks, and was willing to go through with the plan anyway.

 

They abandon their last car at the carpark by the docks, and Bellamy follows Clarke as she walks up to a man standing by a boat sorting through piles of fish. She smiles at him reassuringly, and takes his hand, causing butterflies to swoop around in his stomach.

 

“Hola señor, el águila se dirige hacia el nido. Salgan del cascarón los polluelos?” she says, her Spanish fluent and graceful.

 

“Sí, ellos son, y están listos para ir y crianza. Quién es tu amigo?” the man replies, his voice deep and gravelly.

 

“No es asunto tuyo. Él está conmigo,” she says, and this time her voice is icy cold.

 

“Por supuesto. De esta manera por favor,” the man says, gesturing towards his tiny boat.

 

“I hope you don’t get seasick,” Clarke mutters, and pulls him towards the boat.

 

“What did you say?” he asks curiously.

 

“Code sentence. So he knows where to take us,” she explains.

 

The boat takes them out until they can’t see the mainland anymore, then stops. He looks around carefully.

 

“I don’t get it,” he says. “There’s nothing here,”

 

She smirks at him, and nods towards the boat driver, who hits a switch. “That’s what you think,”

 

He frowns, but then something catches his attention, so he looks out to it. Not even two meters away from the boat, a small round hatch is rising out of the water.

 

“What-” he starts, then it dawns on him. “It’s under water,”

 

She nods, smiling, then in one fluid motion, she jumps over the edge of the boat and swims to the hatch.

 

“Come on,” she says, her eyes bright.

 

He grins, then follows her over. They pulls themselves into the hatch, and climb down a ladder. It seems to go on forever, and when they reach the bottom, he finds himself in a metal tube. Clarke hands him one of the towels sitting on a rail, then leads him down the hall and through a set of airtight doors. He looks around in wonder at the room - it has all state of the art technology, and there’s windows surrounding it and he can see schools of fish swimming past. It’s amazing.

 

“Yeah,” Clarke says, and he realises that he spoke aloud. “It’s pretty awesome,”

 

“Clarke! I wasn’t expecting you for another few hours,” someone says, and Bellamy looks over to find himself staring at none other than Jake Griffin himself. “Who’s your friend?”

 

Clarke explains their story to her father, and Bellamy tries to look as casual about the situation as he can.

 

“So you want to join our academy?” Jake asks him, and Bellamy jumps at being addressed.

 

“Yes, sir,” he answers automatically. He can see Clarke suppressing a grin next to him, and he fights to hide one of his own.

 

“You’ve been trained properly, I assume?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Bellamy says, trying to act as professional as he can.

 

Jake hums in thought, then turns to his daughter.

 

“You trust this man?” he asks her.

 

“I do,” Clarke says, and Bellamy feels his heart swell with affection.

 

“That’s good enough for me. Agent Blake, I’m putting you on probation. Clarke here will be responsible for you until you have proven yourself. Cross me, and you will find yourself out of this place without so much as a life jacket, do I make myself clear?” Jake says, turning back to Bellamy.

 

“Yes, sir,” Bellamy stands up straight.

 

“Get some rest. First thing tomorrow, take him to the fear room and show him how it’s done,” Jake tells Clarke.

 

Clarke nods, then gestures to Bellamy to follow her. She leads him through a labyrinth of corridors to a room with a large window and a bed in the corner.

 

“You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll find you a proper room,” she says, smiling.

 

“Okay,” he replies.

 

There’s a short moment of awkwardness where they both stand there, unsure of what to do. Then she hugs him briefly, and takes a step back.

 

“Night,” she says, then abruptly leaves, leaving him to respond to an empty hallway.

 

*****

 

He doesn’t sleep well that night. He can’t stop tossing and turning, and when he does fall asleep, he jerks awake a barely an hour later from an unremembered nightmare. He tells himself that it’s just because he’s in an unfamiliar bed, but he knows what it really is; he misses the feel of Clarke beside him, curled into him, and the sound of her breaths lulling him to sleep. It had been the type of comfort that he barely got, and he didn’t even know it was there until it was too late - or, in this case, banging open the door and yelling at him.

 

“Rise and shine, your majesty, there’s a long day ahead of you!”

 

Clarke’s voice is way too cheerful for this ungodly hour, so he groans and rolls over, hiding his face from the light.

 

“Go away,” he mumbles into the pillow.

 

“No can do, Bell. See, we gotta go find out what you fear, and I’m sorta looking forward to that,” he can practically feel her smirk.

 

He rolls over, and stands up, trying not to look too pleased at the way she stares at his chest for a second. He stretches and yawns, and he can almost swear he hears her mutter under her breath;

 

“Now you’re just being unfair,”

 

He grins, then pulls on a top.

 

“Lead the way, Princess,” he says, gesturing towards the door.

 

She flounces out of the room, leading him down the corridor and into a large gym. There’s a spring floor covering the ground, glass windows surrounding it, but other than that the room is pretty much empty. She walks into the middle of the room, stopping at a table that has several boxes on it, and he follows after her.

 

“You afraid of needles, Blake?” she asks, taking a massive syringe out of one of the boxes.

 

“Ahh… Not usually,” he answers apprehensively.

 

She smirks. “This is the fear serum, we inject it into the neck,”

 

He nods.

 

“These,” she puts down the needle and grabs a pile of patches. “Are monitors. They stick to you, so we can track your vitals and heart rate, which are then displayed on the glass,”

 

He nods again, trying not to look too impressed.

 

“I’m gonna go first, so you can see how it’s done, and then we’ll hook you up. Any questions?”

 

“Nah,” he says, hoping he looks casual.

 

She grins, then pulls off her top, leaving her in a sports bra. He feels his eyes widen, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t bring himself to look away. She has just the right amount of muscle - enough to know that she’s physically fit, but not too much. She ignores his gaze, and sticks the patches to her torso, then the needle into her neck.

 

“You can watch here,” she gestures to the glass in front of the table. “Keep in mind I’ve done this several times before, so it shouldn’t take too long,”

 

“How many fears do you have?” he questions.

 

“At the moment, three. But I had seven when I first started,” she says.

 

“What happened?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I guess they’re just not scary anymore,” she shrugs, then walks into the glass case.

 

He watches as the room goes dark, the when the lights come back up, he sees what she sees on the screen. She’s tied to a stake, and her father is in front of her. He’s walking around, and he can’t hear what he’s saying, but he can see Clarke’s reactions to it. He can see her pulse go up, her face drop for a second. Then she gets control of it, and her heart slows, and the room goes black again. This time, she appears alone, with a gun in her hand, in an abandoned warehouse. Her pulse is already elevated when he looks, and she’s spinning around as if she’s looking for someone. All of a sudden, a man appears. His face is slack, and he’s dragging his feet as he walks towards Clarke. Bellamy is confused for a second, but then he notices the hole in the man's forehead, right between his eyes, and the trail of blood running from it, and he realises who it is. This is the man that Clarke killed. He can see the man saying something, and he can hear Clarke yelling in reply. This one takes longer for her to control than the first one, but she manages it. The room goes dark for the last time, then the lights come up to reveal - the room he’s standing in.

 

It’s exactly the same, every single detail, and he’s just wondering what’s happening when he sees himself. His duplicate walks into the glass room, and Clarke starts talking to him. They’re laughing, and to the real Bellamy, it is the strangest thing he’s ever seen. He’s wondering what exactly the fear is, when the door to the simulated room bangs open. A squad of soldiers run in, and they shoot around wildly before running out again. Clarke screams, and he watches as his doppelganger collapses to the floor, blood running out of a wound to the  chest. Bellamy winces, and presses his hand to where the wound is on the body Clarke is holding. Clarke is crying, sobs wracking her body as she cradles the body. She presses her head to his, and Bellamy feels something twinge in his heart.

 

She looks so upset, and he longs to comfort her, to remind her that it’s just a simulation, but he can’t. The door the the glass room is locked. So he watches in dismay as his impersonator bleeds out, and can do nothing when all Clarke is doing is begging him to come back. She stops after a while, and stands up, and he’s startled to see the blood covering her body. He watches as she just stands there, looking slightly drained, then as she looks down. She appears to be counting something; he’s unsure as to what. And then she sinks down to the floor, leaning on the glass, and starts taking deep breaths. It isn’t long after that until the lights dim, and the door unlocks with an audible click.

 

Clarke makes no room to move, so Bellamy rushes in instead, and sits down next to her. She’s staring at her hands in shock.

 

“It’s alright,” he says, placing an arm around her. “I’m just here,”

 

His words seem to jar her, and when she looks at him, her eyes are wide and the most vulnerable he’s ever seen them.

 

“I thought it was real,” she says, her voice hollow. “I thought you were dead,”

 

Then her face crumples, and she turns into him, wrapping her arms around him and clinging a hard as she can. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just hugs her back, and hopes that it’s good enough. They sit there for the longest time in that room, taking comfort in the fact that the other was alive and there, and for the longest time, he felt peace.

 

*****

 

Clarke gave him a tour of the compound after they finally had finished in the fear room. She seemed a little tense still, but when Bellamy tried to ask her if she was okay, she brushed him off. She introduced him to several agents along the way, and all of them seemed extraordinarily nice and polite - especially after the agents back at his old academy. It was nice, and he finally felt like he fit in. They even let him call Octavia (after checking and double checking the bugs on the phone, and that the untraceable chip was still untraceable). She was out of her mind with worry, and it took him several minutes to placate her. He then went on to tell her that he wasn’t coming back, which was probably a mistake because she almost literally exploded at him. Clarke was pulling faces at him, which made it even harder to talk to O without laughing - something she wouldn’t have taken well. Finally, he managed to persuade her that yes, he was alright, and yes, he was certain that he wasn’t coming back, and yes, he will call her at least once a week.

 

“Bell,” she says, just as he’s about to hang up. “Be careful. And you know, whoever she is, I want to meet her. I thought I’d never see the day that someone managed to thaw your frozen heart,”

 

Bellamy had laughed, and called her stupid, saying that there was no girl at all - just him, alone. But he looked at Clarke as he said so, and he could practically feel the adoration seeping out of his eyes - he just hoped she didn’t notice.

 

*****

 

It’s only been three weeks before he gets his first mission, and he’s itching to get out on the field again - even if he has to have a babysitter. Although, when said babysitter is a certain Clarke Griffin, he could deal with it. It goes smoothly, and they’re only away for three nights, which isn’t nearly enough time. Life at the base is so much harsher than what he’s used too, but he supposes it’s for the better. In between running his fears (Octavia, his mother dying, Octavia, Clarke, heights, and Murphy beating him in a fight - that had been embarrassing to explain, and the first one he conquered), timed army training drills, and spending time in the gym, he was learning Spanish from Clarke, and training harder in hand to hand - even now that she was his friend, she still went all out on him - he barely remembered to call Octavia.

 

Two months later, and he had finally proved himself trustworthy. He celebrated with all his new friends by going up to a bar on the surface - and the Mexican sure knew how to party. Clarke and his relationship had blossomed, and she was easily the closest friend he’d ever had. He just couldn’t help but want more though. He knew it was nuts, but he felt things about her that he’d never felt with anyone else before. It just felt so right when he was with her, and for the few days he’d had alone with her, he found himself wanting more and more. He was currently taking his frustration out on a punching bag in the gym, when the very cause of his motivation appeared in front of him.

 

“Hey Bell. Woah, you seem… Tense,” she greets him.

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he sarcastically replies.

 

“Wanna duel it out?” she asks, a smirk lighting up her features.

 

“Sure,” he says.

 

What could be better than dueling his frustrations on the very cause of them, right? They walk to the mat, and Bellamy pulls off his shirt, wiping his head with it. He sees Clarke stare out of the corner of his eye, and smirks. It’s always good to know that he’s appreciated. He hears a rustling noise, and looks at her to see her pulling her top over her head. He scowls slightly - he doesn’t need that type of distraction, not now. This is a fight that he intends to win. They reach the mat, and face off, circling each other warily.

 

“Scared Blake?” she shoots at him, quoting Harry Potter.

 

“You wish,” he replies, just to see her grin.

 

It’s him that eventually makes the first move, lunging towards her, fist outstretched. She dodges and moves around him, elbowing him just below the back of his neck. If there’s one thing that he’s learned about her fighting, it’s that she hates playing offense. She uses her opponents moves against them, darting around them until they’re tired out, before finally striking. It’s a highly effective strategy that plays well into her strengths, and she simultaneously makes her opponent seem like they’re winning by letting them land a few hits. Even though he’s aware of her strategy, he still falls into her trap, and it isn’t long before she’s pinned him to the ground.

 

“I win,” she whispers, her face is only inches from his, and her breath wafting over his face smelling vaguely like peppermint.

 

He grits his teeth, then flips them over using one fluid motion so his weight is holding her to the ground and preventing any unwanted escape attempts.

 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, staring challengingly into her eyes.

 

She glares at him, and struggles weakly before giving up.

 

“One…” he says teasingly, referencing their first fight. “Two…”

 

“Three,” she utters, and then she winds her hands in his hair, and kisses him.

 

It’s soft and slow and everything a first kiss should be, and he doesn’t even realise that he’s responding until she tugs on his hair gently. He pulls away to breathe first, and his tongue darts out to touch his lip. She pouts, so he leans back in and kisses her again, and this time it’s passionate and hot. He bites her lower lip softly, and she groans before opening her mouth and capturing his lips once more. Their tongues dance, and she flips them over so he can caress her sides properly, which he immediately does. It’s her that pulls away first this time, and he follows her up as far as he can before letting his head flop back down onto the mat.

 

“Yeah,” she breathes. “I win,”

 

He gapes at her, and she laughs before standing up and offering him a hand.

 

“I swear to god, Princess, some day you will be the death of me,” he mutters, taking her hand.

 

“Oh Agent Blake. You wouldn’t have it any other way,” she replies, her eyes shining with mirth.

  
_‘No,’_ he thinks, smiling fondly at her. _‘he really wouldn’t’._

**Author's Note:**

> What Clarke says should roughly translate into:  
> 'Hello sir, the eagle is headed towards the nest. Have the chicks hatched?'  
> 'Yes, they have, and they're ready and rearing to go. Who's your friend?'  
> 'It's none of your business. He's with me,'  
> 'Of course. This way please.'
> 
> Bear in mind that I do not speak Spanish and this all comes from google translate, so there will most likely be mistakes.


End file.
